


Before the Mantis

by Styx88



Series: Tales of the Mantis Crew [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Father Figures, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Cal Kestis, Hurt/Comfort, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Minor Character Death, Minor Merrin/Ilyana, Nightsisters (Star Wars), Pre-Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order, References to Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008), Science Fiction, Star Wars References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25970863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Styx88/pseuds/Styx88
Summary: Six chapters, six stories, six meetings or adventures of the crew members of the Mantis – before the Mantis.Chapter 1: A Jedi Master passionate about history travels through the entire galaxy accompanied by his loyal droid in search of remnants of the past.Chapter 2: A young Jedi Knight accomplishes his first mission as a Seeker, and becomes attached to a child with fascinating powers.Chapter 3: A Jedi Master and her young apprentice on a diplomatic mission on a remote planet make an amazing discovery.Chapter 4: Two young Nightsisters are playing in the swamps unaware that a terrible shadow threatens their coven.Chapter 5: A young rigger has an unfortunate accident and asks for help from his friend, a good Abednedo.Chapter 6: A pilot falls in love with a spaceship and meets someone who will change the course of his life.A prequel to ‘After the Fall’, which you don't need to have read.Each chapter can be read separately.
Relationships: BD-1 (Star Wars) & Eno Cordova, Cal Kestis & Prauf, Cere Junda & Trilla Suduri | Second Sister, Greez & The Mantis, Ilyana/Merrin (Star Wars), Original Female Character & Pong Krell
Series: Tales of the Mantis Crew [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1864330
Comments: 15
Kudos: 30





	1. BD-1 & Eno

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Avant le Mantis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26060914) by [Styx88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Styx88/pseuds/Styx88). 



> I don't own Star Wars, Star Wars Jedi Fallen Order, or any characters from those two works.
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading these short stories just as I enjoyed writing them. 
> 
> I thank melrosethecat who helped me a lot for the beta-reading.
> 
> Have a good reading!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I see you are eager to discover the world around you,” said Master Eno, his smile broadening further. “I think you and I are going to get along very well."

38 BBY – Coruscant – 'Vin's Treasures' Shop

"I have to admit it's an unusual request," said Sud Vin as he came out of his back shop with a metal crate in his arms, blowing on the lid to remove the thin layer of dust that had built up on it over time. "Usually, my customers are looking for protocol droids or butler droids instead. This is the first time in ten years that I've been asked for an exploration droid."

Eno Cordova calmly watched the Duros merchant put the crate on the counter of his shop. The emporium in which he stood was small but clean and well laid out, with the newest and most fashionable droid models in the front window, and on the shelves in the shop, the models most sought after by the rich Coruscanti elite. It was his friend, Jocasta Nu, who had recommended Sud Vin. According to her, he was selling some of the best droid models currently available, and Eno needed one of the best droids available to accompany him on his quest. Since Cere had been promoted to the rank of Jedi Knight, he felt lonely on his travels. Most of all, he needed an assistant to replace his Padawan who until then had taken care of many tasks. He had to admit that he often had his head in the clouds, and that Cere had saved him several times from missteps into which his dizzy mind had led him.

The Duros continued his sales pitch, which was supposed to fill Eno with wonder and urge him to buy his merchandise – at full price of course.

"You won't find anything better on the market. It's a BD unit, a rare model – the company that manufactured it collapsed and filed for bankruptcy shortly after it started production. He has two hinged legs and two thrusters, which allow him to traverse all types of terrain. He is, of course, able to record and broadcast any type of data – holomessage, holomap... He folds up and can easily fit in a backpack – one of the smallest models I own! He is equipped with a lot of useful tools: spotlight, zip line, scomp link... He can even be used as a backup battery if you need it. Oh, and he has a dispenser in his head, which is very useful for storing stim canisters for example – you never know, when you're going on an adventure, an accident can happen quickly."

"It seems perfect to me," Eno commented laconically when the merchant finally stopped his torrent of words. "How much are you asking for it?"

Sud Vin looked at him hesitantly. Eno knew the Duros was wondering how much he could get from the Jedi. Luckily for him his simple clothes made him look like he wasn't rolling in money, and he hoped the quoted price would stay affordable.

"Well, as I told you, it's a pretty rare model and very well equipped so... he costs 7,000 credits. A bargain, I assure you."

Eno struggled not to show his relief. Jocasta had warned him about the prohibitive prices of Sud Vin, and he had expected a much higher price.

"It is a deal," Eno replied, handing the merchant a credit chip.

Once the transaction was complete, Eno took the crate under his arm – it was lighter than its size would suggest – and he walked out of the shop into one of the sunny, bustling streets of the upper levels of Coruscant. He could not wait to get to the Jedi Temple and see what that little droid looked like, as Sud Vin had just painted a more than flattering picture of him.

38 BBY – Coruscant – Jedi Temple

_Beep beep – Power on in progress – Data synchronization._

"Hello, my friend."

BD-1 adjusted his visual sensors and turned his head towards the person who had just spoken to him.

_Analysis in progress – Type: organic – Species beep-beep-beep: human – Gender: male._

"I am Eno Cordova. It is a pleasure to meet you."

_Data recording – Name: Eno Cordova – Status: owner._

"Beep, boop, beep!" the little droid chirped in response.

"Haha, nice to meet you, BD-1," said Master Eno as he looked at him, a slight smile on his face.

BD-1 jumped to the bottom of the table on which he was standing and began to explore the room, his metal feet clicking on the floor, scanning everything that could be scanned in the vicinity. The room was small and soberly decorated. There was only a bed on the floor, and a wooden table and chair. The walls were bare and a single window lit up the place.

"I see you are eager to discover the world around you," said Master Eno, his smile broadening further. "I think you and I are going to get along very well. You see, I travel the galaxy in search of ruins – the remnants of an ancient civilization that is now vanished. I am certain you would be interested in my research. Would you agree to accompany me on my quest?"

"Beep bop beep trill!" exclaimed BD-1 enthusiastically.

"Haha! You cannot even imagine! I have a feeling we are going to have some great adventures together!"

32 BBY – Zeffo – Tomb of Miktrull

After spending several hours walking around the tomb in every direction, Eno let himself fall to the ground to catch his breath and above all to reflect on all that he had just discovered. He left BD-1 wandering around him in a perky manner while he tried to gather all the data he had just collected before the ideas escaped his mind.

It was amazing. The discoveries he had just made completely overturned the theories he had developed about Bogano and its Vault. These Zeffos were really fascinating. But why did they become extinct? Were there members of their species still extant? And if so, where were they now? There were many things that intrigued him here, but the most intriguing of them all were these Zeffo statuaries that held some sort of spherical objects in their hands. They had all been destroyed, apparently on purpose. But why were they destroyed? And there was this glyph near the statues, always the same one – 'Astrium'. It must have been a ubiquitous, sacred symbol. Perhaps even linked to the Vault of Bogano. He had to go back to Bogano, check up on all this–

Suddenly, he heard a loud thud that put an end to his reflection. Hopping around – as usual – in all corners of the room, BD-1 had apparently just triggered a mechanism. A cylindrical room gradually rose up in front of them – a hidden room buried in the ground. Eno got back on his feet quickly. Perhaps it had escaped those who had destroyed the statues?

He entered the small room and immediately saw the fresco on the wall – probably the most beautiful and best preserved he had seen so far. He put his hand on it, letting his fingers run over the copper and silver patterns while holding his breath in the face of the discovery he was making. There, on the right, he obviously recognized the characteristic shape of the Bogano Vault. And on the left stood a Zeffo Sage, probably Miktrull – yes, the glyphs engraved next to it confirmed this. But most of all, what captured Eno's attention, what prevented him from tearing his gaze from the mural that gently reflected the light of the candles hanging on the walls, was this object, floating above the open palm of the Sage: an Astrium. It was a chance! A miracle of the Force! Eno lowered his eyes full of gratitude and affection towards the little droid.

"Thank you, my friend. Without you, I would never have made this incredible discovery!"

25 BBY – Kashyyyk – Origin Tree

"At last. I found my quarry. The Astrium," Master Eno announced as he showed BD-1 the artifact in his hand. "Used by the Zeffo Sages millenia ago. I hold in my hands a piece of galactic history." He laughed, visibly overjoyed. "Oh, I will never be able to thank Tarfful enough. Do you know what this means, my friend? No need to return to Dathomir. The darkness clouded every attempt at finding the Astrium inside Kujet's tomb, but the Force... The Force has provided a new path."

BD-1 tilted his head to the side, not understanding what made his master so happy. However, if Master Eno was happy then BD-1 was happy too. He made a trill of excitement before climbing on the old Jedi's back to analyze the artifact in his hand.

_Data recording – Object: Astrium – Function: unknown – Note: makes the Jedi happy._

"Come, my friend, all we have to do now is go back down," said Master Eno. BD-1 still perched on his back – the droid had to admit that he liked to be carried by his master, especially since it gave him a better view of his surroundings. Master Eno began his descent along the damp trunk of the Origin Tree.

After several long minutes of walking, the human sighed.

"I wish I could have stayed here to look for that Shyyyo Bird about which Tarfful told us. But we do not have time – the Vault of Bogano awaits us. Ah my friend, if you only knew how much I am looking forward to it! Can you imagine the secrets probably buried in that Vault? All that we are about to discover? It is the entire history of the Force that is now in question – I should then go and present my research to the Jedi Counc—"

Lost in his thoughts, as usual, Master Eno had not been careful where he put his feet. The soles of his leather boots slipped on the wet moss of the trunk, and he fell backwards, taking BD-1 with him. He had no time to use the Force: his head banged violently against a branch, and they tumbled several dozen feet before crashing heavily with a big splash on a carpet of emerald green moss that partially cushioned their fall.

Master Eno's body sank slightly into the spongy ground. BD-1 got up and walked towards his master with difficulty, his little feet slipping on the damp floor, beeping a worried question to his attention. But the human didn't answer – he just lay there on the ground, not moving. BD-1 gave him a gentle nudge with his head, hoping to force the Jedi to stop his game and open his eyes. However, Master Eno was not playing. The droid then noticed a long, bloody trail on his master's right cheek.

_Damage analysis in progress – Diagnosis: concussion, two cracked ribs._

BD-1 hopped from one leg to the other, hesitating about the proper procedure. He was not a medical droid. His only function in this field was to carry some stim canisters that he was unable to use on his own anyway. So, he had to find help – someone who would be able to heal his master for him.

BD-1 glanced worriedly at his master, and after one last beep, he ran away as fast as his little legs would allow.

It took him almost one hour to reach a Wookiee village – BD-1 recognized the village they had left that morning, his master and him. He rushed to the largest hut and sneaked between the legs of the two Wookiees guarding the entrance.

_Analysis in progress – Type: organic – Species: Wookiee – Gender: male – Name: Tarfful – Status: friend._

Recognizing his master's friend sitting on the seat that took place of pride in the middle of the room, BD-1 began to beep everything he could. Tarfful seemed to recognize him and to understand that misfortune had befallen Master Eno. He rose abruptly and growled at his men to accompany him. BD-1 hastened to guide him to where Master Eno was.

It was not until several hours later, when his master, lying in bed with his head covered with bandages, finally opened his eyes, that BD-1 allowed himself a beep of relief.

"Well, my friend, it looks like you have saved me again," said Master Eno, smiling faintly at the droid.

BD-1 affectionately nuzzled his head against Master Eno's cheek, and then he sat comfortably on his belly and began to hum of contentment.

19 BBY – Bogano – Zeffo Vault

Eno was sad. He thought about how his quest had ended. About that vision he had had in the Vault of Bogano – a vision that foreshadowed the end of the Jedi. About the reaction of the Council members when he had presented his discoveries to them. Despite his persistence and despite his research, they had refused to take the threat seriously, preferring to focus on the Separatist threat. Yet his vision had so far proved accurate: the Clone Wars, the end of the Nightsisters who had helped him on Dathomir, the dark side spreading across the galaxy... And now he could feel it. The fall of the Jedi Order was approaching.

He looked at the holocron pulsing with a soft green light in his hand. He smiled faintly as he thought of Jocasta Nu – Jocasta, his old confidant, the only one who had believed his words. Thanks to her – thanks to this holocron – he would be able to save the Jedi. He just hoped that someone sufficiently worthy and strong in the Force would be able to overcome the tests he had prepared.

He knelt in front of the circular plate in the center of the Vault and sealed the holocron within it. Then he got up on his feet and turned to BD-1, his friend – his only true friend in recent years. The little droid looked at him, beeping worriedly.

"The time has come," Eno said to the little droid. He smiled sadly at him, knowing in his heart that it was over. He thought back to the many adventures he and BD-1 had shared. To all the times BD-1 had saved his life – and to all the times he himself had saved the fearless little droid's life. "This may be the last you see of me. I can sense the doom of the Jedi Order is upon us."

"Bee-bo-beep?" BD-1 asked him.

"No, failure is not the end," Eno answered with a light laugh to hide the sadness that filled his heart. "It is a necessary part of the path. Hope will always survive in those who continue to fight. Like you, BD-1. I believe you will find someone just as brave and persistent as you have been. And you will help them, as you have helped me. But your memory will be completely lost. Are you sure you want to do this?"

BD-1 agreed with an energetic beep. Eno knelt down in front of him and pulled out an encryption key. He hoped deep down inside that BD-1's sacrifice would not be in vain.

"Beginning total memory encryption," Eno said. "Only with a trusted connection will your memories be restored. I believe in you. As I always have. And I believe in whom you choose to replace me." Eno struggled painfully to hide his emotions and tenderly petted the droid's head. "Goodbye... old friend."

BD-1 shut down abruptly – his best friend was gone. Eno took him in his arms and carried him outside the Vault, before laying him down in the soft, wet grass of the mesa. He looked at BD-1 one last time before walking away to his ship, his cheeks covered with tears he could no longer hold back.

19 BBY – Bogano – Binog Mesa

_Beep beep – Power on in progress – Data synchronization._

BD-1 adjusted his visual sensors and analyzed the creature in front of him. It was a kind of small animal with brown fur and pointed ears, barely taller than BD-1, and looking at him with its two huge black eyes.

_Analysis in progress – Type: organic – Species beep-beep-beep: unknown – Gender: female._

The fluffy creature became frightened by the blue light emitted by the scanner and ran away at full speed, uttering little cries of terror. BD-1 then analyzed the landscape around him.

_Analysis in progress – Database searching – Planet: unknown._

BD-1 was disturbed. He knew he had to do something important, but he could not remember what. He browsed all the data in his database – it was empty. BD-1 was sure he had forgotten something important – someone – but who? He emitted a little half-interrogative, half-lost beep, before he realized he was alone on this planet. However, he had confidence. Whoever had left him here, BD-1 was sure they would come back for him. Yes, BD-1 was confident - someone would come back for him.

He scanned the mesa again, before lying in the green grass and waiting, full of hope, for the return of his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted a sweet and fluffy story about the friendship between BD-1 and Eno Cordova. Because BD-1 is the cutest of all Star Wars droids and he deserves it!


	2. Jill & Pong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Pong looked at the child, dumbstruck. How could such a small being have such great power? It was beyond the huge Jedi’s comprehension."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to imagine what Pong Krell might have been like before the Clone Wars. I guess he wasn't always the obnoxious character we know, was he?
> 
> I thank melrosethecat for the beta-reading.

35 BBY – Corellia – Styx's Domain

She smashed her raging little fist on the dining room table, shaking the plates and exploding the glasses. The anger invaded this little being, barely eighteen months old, who had just been refused a third cookie.

Jillani's parents looked at their eldest daughter with a look of surprise and apprehension. However, the baby didn't understand the significance of her gesture, too young to grasp all the future events that her reaction to the discovery of frustration had just set in motion.

"Gallen? What just happened?" asked Jillani's mother in a worried voice to her husband.

"I don't know, Valeann," Jillani's father replied hesitantly. "I... I think it's the Force..."

"The Force? But how?"

"I— When I was a child, my parents used to tell me the story of my family. They said I have distant ancestors who were Force-sensitives, back in the days of the Old Republic. But that was centuries ago! I didn't believe—"

The man did not finish his sentence. He looked at his daughter and sighed, running a hand through his thick hair, before turning his eyes to his wife.

"What should we do?" asked Valeann, still worried.

"I'm going to contact the Jedi Order. They'll know what to do."

33 BBY – Corellia – Styx's Domain

When Pong Krell stepped off his ship, he was greeted by the warmth of the Corellian sun. Corellia – he hadn't been to this planet since the time he was a Padawan. However, the young Besalisk was no longer an apprentice – no, he was a proud Jedi Knight. He had been put in charge by the Order of a mission of the utmost importance – to find and bring Force-sensitive children to the Temple of Coruscant. This was his first mission as a Seeker. An easy mission – the child's parents had contacted the Jedi Order almost two years ago to warn them of their daughter's powers. All Pong had to do was follow protocol, verify the parents' statements, and take the child with him to Coruscant, where she would be trained in the tradition of the Jedi Order.

He put a hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun and observe the landscape around him. The Styx family lived in a small, opulent estate, nestled in the middle of green hills covered with fields and forests, away from the big cities and their sordid scheming. They owned several thousand acres of farmland. It was a small farm compared to those of their neighbors, but big enough to provide them with a more than comfortable standard of living. You only had to look at the many lodgings for their employees to realize this – and they even had their own landing pad. In short, an idyllic place to grow up.

Lost in thought, he only heard the human arrive at the last moment. He was still a young man, well built, with thick auburn hair and black eyes.

"Master Krell, I presume," said the human, holding out a friendly hand to the Besalisk. "I am Gallen Styx."

"Nice to meet you," Pong replied, shaking his offered hand briskly.

"Follow me, please," Gallen politely told him. "I'll introduce you to the rest of the family."

Pong followed the human along the clear dirt path that led from the landing pad to the Styx family home while watching the colorful wildflowers growing in the green grass as the air filled with the buzzing of bees that were actively working in late spring. Yeah, really, an idyllic place...

He entered the house following Gallen Styx and was immediately welcomed by a cool, restful shade. He was in a vestibule whose floor was covered with a white and blue mosaic representing geometric figures. The roof was pierced with a large opening that brought in daylight while preserving the room from heat. In the center was an ornamental pool with a fountain whose streams of water lapped like soothing music to the ears of the Jedi. He approached the pool – red and golden fish were swimming in the clear, pure water.

"Ah, Master Jedi, allow me to present Valeann, my wife, and my son, Rallim."

Pong took his eyes off the shimmering fish and turned them towards the young woman who came towards him with a great smile. She was beautiful – for a human – with her long brown hair and big green eyes. She was holding a baby who was only a few months old.

"And this is Jillani," Gallen continued, pointing to a child who was timidly hiding behind his legs.

The child barely reached Pong's hip. Her head was topped by thick, bushy, tangled brown hair, and her black eyes cautiously scanned the Besalisk.

"Master Jedi, will you do us the honor of sharing our meal?" asked Valeann in a soft voice.

"With pleasure," Pong replied, following them to the dining room.

The meal went smoothly, even though Pong could still feel the child's dark eyes which were analyzing him attentively. When the meal was over, he wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood up, before bowing respectfully to his hosts.

"I thank you for your welcome," he gratefully told them. "Now, if you don't mind, I would like to speak with your daughter. I have a few things to check before we leave."

"Of course," replied Gallen. "This way please, follow me."

Gallen took Pong and the child to a small room before leaving them alone and closing the door behind him. The walls of the room were dazzling white and a pleasant breeze came in through the open window, gently waving the light fabric curtains. The bed and the few toys left on the floor suggested that this was the child's room.

"Jillani, right?" Pong asked, kneeling down in front of the child in order to put himself at the same height as her and reassure her.

The kid nodded her head without saying anything.

"My name is Pong Krell. I am a Jedi. Have you ever heard of us?"

The kid nodded again, her lips still sealed.

"I'm going to have to test your blood," Pong warned, taking out of his pocket a little black box with a small needle on one side and a test strip on the other.

Scared, the child took a step back. The Besalisk raised his eyebrows before he understood the subject of her fear.

"Oh. No, no. Don't worry. It doesn't hurt at all."

And as if to prove his words, he stuck the small needle in his finger, causing a drop of blood to appear, before approaching the scanner. The test strip drank the red liquid greedily before the scanner screen flashed a green light, indicating a midi-chlorian level high enough to allow joining the Jedi Order.

"See? That didn't even hurt!" Pong boasted with a smile.

The kid moved towards him, staring at his finger, from which blood continued to flow. Pong had never been very skilled with these test boxes, and he had messed up again when he had stuck the needle in his finger, causing more bleeding than necessary.

"Don't worry, even if it's bleeding, I assure you it doesn't hurt," Pong repeated, fearing that the sight of the blood would frighten the kid.

Jillani put her tiny human hand on his big Besalisk finger and closed her eyes. Pong felt a slight tingling in his fingertip. When she took her hand off, the wound had disappeared.

By Force! A healer?! Pong looked at the child, dumbstruck. How could such a small being have such great power? It was beyond the huge Jedi's comprehension. He did not even need to test her midi-chlorian levels. Pong was lucky on his first mission – the masters would be happy.

"Kiddo," Pong said softly to the child. "You'll have to pack your things and say goodbye to your family."

33 BBY – Somewhere in hyperspace – T-6 Shuttle

Jillani huddled against the wall of the ship. She was terrified. Through the window, she could see endless space – a frightening sight for her as she had never left her planet. All around her, she felt nothing but cold – the cold of the recycled air entering her lungs with each inhalation, the cold of the metal against her back, the cold of the space surrounding them. She thought back to her parents, to her father's warm arms, to her mother's gentle caresses, and she began to sob. She wanted to get out of that ship, to go back to her home, to her house, to her family, to her room and to the pretty pool full of colorful fish. She didn't want to go to that 'temple', or see those 'Jedi' who were taking her away from her loved ones.

"Ah, there you are! I thought I'd lost you," a loud voice suddenly sounded.

Master Pong knelt down before her and gave her a warm smile, although a little sorry.

"Are you scared?"

Jillani nodded. Words couldn't get out of her throat tightened with anxiety.

"Don't worry. You'll see, you'll eventually get used to it," the Besalisk said gently. "I too was afraid when I left my parents. That's normal. But you'll see, at the temple, you'll meet lots of people, and you'll make new friends. The Order will become your new family."

Slightly reassured, Jillani wiped her wet eyes with the back of her hand, and then she stood up to come and snuggle in the arms of Master Pong. She did not see his eyebrows raised in surprise, nor his kindly smile. There, in his arms, she felt warm – safe. She knew that there, nothing could happen to her.

33 BBY – Coruscant – Upper levels

By the time they landed on Coruscant the next day, the morning was well underway. Pong hurriedly shoved the kid into a taxi before ordering the driver to take them to the Jedi Temple. All around them, traffic jams were beginning to pile up, the air suddenly filled with a symphony of horns that mingled with the roar of the engines.

Pong looked at Jillani who was watching with a half-fearful, half-curious eye the vibrant streets of Coruscant and the various kinds of vehicles they passed on their way. Admittedly, it was a long way from the calm, peaceful farmland where she had grown up. However, she would eventually get used to it, no doubt about it.

After several very long minutes, they finally arrived at their destination. He noticed the child's amazed gaze as she saw the huge Jedi Temple towering in front of her, overwhelming her with all its imposing height. He had had the same reaction too, the first time he had seen it.

They quickly climbed the steps leading up to the entrance before being stopped by a guard in charge of checking the Seeker's mission order.

"Please hurry up," Pong asked him. "I'm almost late."

"I'm sorry, but that's the procedure," replied the guard.

"I'm in charge of bringing this girl to Master Yoda."

"A girl? What girl?" asked the guard, as an air of real surprise took form on his face.

Pong glanced at Jillani. Kriff. She had vanished. He turned around, but did not see her on the steps behind him – she must have gone into the temple while his back was turned. Pong rushed inside the building, looking frantically for where the girl had gone. By Force! How could she disappear like that?

After several long minutes of relentless searching, he finally found her in the library.

"There you are!" Pong said to Jillani. "I thought I'd lost you again!"

The kid turned to him with an apologetic look.

"Come on, hurry up," he said. "With your jaunt, we're late. It's not good to keep the masters waiting!"

Pong took the child in his arms and hastened to the room where Master Yoda was welcoming the new Younglings. He sighed with relief when he realized that the ceremony had not yet begun.

"Almost late you are, young Pong, hmmm?!" Master Yoda noticed.

"Forgive me Master," Pong answered, bowing respectfully before the master. "This is Jillani."

Pong put the child on the floor and knelt down in front of her.

"Okay, well, this is where we part ways, kiddo. I hope we'll get a chance to run into each other again one of these days!"

Suddenly, Jillani flew into his arms, surprising the huge Besalisk with her affectionate gesture.

"Thank you," she whispered in a very small voice – the first words Pong heard coming out of her mouth.

With a big smile on his face, Pong left the room, his first mission as a Seeker successfully completed.

33 BBY – Coruscant – Jedi Temple

Jillani watched with regret as Master Pong left the room, and then she turned around to observe the small green, pointy-eared alien facing her. He was smaller than she was, yet he was all wrinkled, like an old moldy apple – just like her great-grandma on Corellia. Then she looked at the other children around her. There were about fifteen of them: two Twi'lek, a Togruta, four humans – three boys and a girl – a Rodian, a Nautolan and five other aliens whose species she didn't know. The children circled around the small, wrinkled, green alien.

"I welcome you," he told them. "Master Yoda, I am. Today the Jedi Order, you join. Today Younglings, you become. To the Clawmouse Clan, you belong. Together, remain you will. Together, learn you will. Hmmm?"

Jillani felt her neighbor's hand brush hers. She watched the Togruta give her an amused wink before whispering.

"My name's Ahsoka, what's yours?"

20 BBY – Somewhere in hyperspace – Venator-class Star Destroyer

Jillani angrily threw the holoprojector against the wall of her cabin, smashing it to pieces.

No! That's not true! It couldn't be! He couldn't have done it!

She took her head in her hands and let herself slide against the wall until her buttocks hit the floor.

She did not want to believe it. He who had been so good to her all those years. He who had come regularly to see her at the temple, bringing her her favorite treats in secret – their 'little smuggling' as they liked to call it so well. He whom she called by his first name, in spite of the respect she owed to his rank as a master – and who called her 'kiddo' in spite of her sixteen years old. Admittedly, she hadn't seen him for more than two years, since she had become Master Chiata's Padawan. The Clone Wars had made it impossible for her to meet him at all – they were both on fronts too far away from each other.

No, really, she did not want to believe it. And yet she knew deep down inside that it was the truth: Master Pong Krell had betrayed the Jedi Order and the Republic, and he had been executed for that betrayal.

With her head still in her hands, she felt the tears running down her cheeks, and she heard them dripping one by one on the metal floor of the ship, resonating in her ears even more painful than the news she had just heard.

Her friend was dead, and she had not even had a chance to say goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read and/or left a kudo or a comment!


	3. Cere & Trilla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Cere was pacing back and forth in the throne room, her arms folded in front of her chest, surrounded by the palace guards and their captain. She was beginning to worry. Trilla could be stubborn. What if something had happened to her?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sometimes wonder what life was like for Cere and Trilla before the Purge, and even before the Clone Wars. To me Cere was a bit like a mother to Trilla – as she is a bit like the mother of the Mantis crew – which makes the fact that she abandoned her all the more tragic.
> 
> I thank melrosethecat for the beta-reading.

23 BBY – Solenae – Palace of the Prime Governor – Throne Room

Trilla sighed quietly. She did not like diplomatic missions with their share of long, sterile political discussions in which everyone seemed to be trying, with long, boring tirades, to lull the rest of the audience to sleep. She preferred problems that could be solved with a lightsaber rather than by discussion – even though she was quite good when it came to eloquence. She turned her eyes to her master, standing by her side, hoping that she could quickly come to an agreement with the Prime Governor of Solenae.

"Prime Governor, I hear your concern," Master Junda said as she looked at the human facing her, perched on his huge golden throne covered with expensive gems. "But you must understand that it is in the interest of your people."

The Prime Governor looked down at the two Jedi facing him and made a pout. Trilla thought he really looked like a ridiculous child with his ochre and lavender velvet outfit (how could anyone have such terrible taste regarding colors?) stretched out on his enormous belly, his head topped with a kind of silk turban adorned with shimmering emeralds and sapphires.

"With all due respect, Master Jedi," replied the Prime Governor, Shelashee Salahin. "Solenae has always done very well without the help of the Republic. I understand that you are seeking to strengthen your side in the face of the Separatist threat, but I assure you that we intend to maintain our political neutrality."

"But the Republic could provide everything your people need. Food, medicine, luxury products from all over the galaxy."

Master Junda was crafty. She had noticed the Prime Governor's love for showy and expensive items. However, Trilla doubted that her master's fine words were enough to convince this cowardly Prime Governor, more attached to his golden throne than to his people.

"I appreciate your offer, Master, sincerely. But as you can see, we are not in need. On the contrary, I think I can say without blowing my own horn that Solenae has not enjoyed such a prosperity since the first settlers arrived five centuries ago. And besides, I think your fears of an imminent war are completely unfounded."

"However, the Separatists—"

"Have not yet attempted any offensive maneuvers," the Prime Governor roughly cut her off.

"The blockade of Naboo has proven the contrary," replied Master Junda.

"The Naboo!" exclaimed Shelashee, waving a ring-covered hand in disdain. "They've always been full of themselves, especially since one of them holds the post of Supreme Chancellor! They've never treated the Solanaeans as equals. In their eyes, we are not worthy. My people are not enough – there are only a hundred million of us after all, not even enough to get a place in the Senate."

Trilla saw Master Junda look down for a few moments, quickly thinking about the direction she wanted this discussion to take.

"What if the Republic were to offer you a place in the Senate?" Master Junda asked abruptly.

Trilla turned her surprised eyes to her master. Promising food and some jewelry was one thing, but a place in the Galactic Senate... Shelashee Salahin looked at Cere Junda, a sudden gleam of interest shining deep in his wet blue eyes.

"Well, then things would be different," he replied. "I would— My people would have a chance to be heard by the Republic... Let me think about it and discuss it with my advisors, Master. Then I will give you my answer."

He dismissed them with a wave of his hand. Trilla and her master bowed respectfully to the Prime Governor before turning around and walking away to get to the luxurious suite assigned to them upon their arrival on Solenae.

23 BBY – Solenae – Palace of the Prime Governor – Guest suite

Trilla's long sigh brought Cere out of her mediation. She looked at her young apprentice, whose simple Padawan outfit seemed out of place in the luxurious decor of their room. A gilded frieze in bas-relief ran along the white walls, and black marble statues representing various galactic deities decorated the different corners of the room. Each piece of furniture was more beautiful than the next, made of rare and expensive materials. Exotic green plants adorned the rest of the room, bringing a bit of serenity to this flashy decor to which Cere was not accustomed. The Prime Governor was right: Solenae enjoyed prosperity, and it was difficult to convince those who enjoyed prosperity to change.

"What's going on, Trilla?" asked Cere. "You seem in a bad mood."

"I don't understand why we were asked to come here!" the teenager exclaimed angrily, pacing up and down like a caged Nexu. "This planet is admittedly prosperous, but it has nothing to offer us: it's an agricultural colony! And this Prime Governor is more interested in his re-election than in what's happening in the Galaxy!"

Cere looked at her Padawan. She had to admit it, Trilla was smart – very smart – but also too proud and impatient.

"Calm down, my apprentice. The time will come when the Prime Governor will accept our offer."

"But why go to all this trouble for a remote planet on the edge of the Outer Rim?"

"What if I told you that Solenae's subsoil contained cortosis?"

"Oh," Trilla said, stopping her pacing for a moment to integrate this new data with the ones she already had. "Well, that explains everything."

"The Prime Governor doesn't know what treasure he's sitting on right now. The Republic hopes to get an agreement to mine cortosis on Solenae. And if that must require the donation of a place in the Senate, I'm sure Chancellor Palpatine won't be opposed. You now understand the value of our mission?"

"Yes, Master," Trilla answered. "Although I must confess that it's not very exciting."

Someone knocked on the door of their suite.

"Come in!" said Cere.

A young blond man dressed in a tunic of the same color as the Prime Governor entered the room bowing his head.

"Master Junda, the Prime Governor has made his decision. He kindly asks you to join him in the throne room."

"I will go there at once," replied Cere. "As for you, why don't you go to the palace library?" she said, turning to her apprentice. "The discussions are still far from over, and I think it won't hurt you to learn a little more about the history of Solenae before we leave."

23 BBY – Solenae – Palace of the Prime Governor – Gardens

Trilla kicked a stone furiously, sending it flying several feet ahead of her. With her hands folded behind her back, she walked up the path of white pebbles that meandered through the gardens, linking the Palace to the Great Library. With clenched teeth, she mumbled inwardly against Master Junda, who once again treated her like a youngling. Go to the library! There was nothing more boring – ah yes, it was always better than listening to Prime Governor palaver, slumped on his throne like a Hutt on a mountain of cushions.

It was hot and humid like most jungle planets. The leaves of the palm trees were rustling softly in the warm late afternoon wind while the scent of moon roses and celestial jasmine filled the air with a sweet fragrance. The elaborate water displays of the fountains, which usually amazed the guests of the Prime Governor, had no effect on Trilla. The young Padawan continued on her way with a dark air, totally indifferent to the beauty of the gardens that surrounded her.

Suddenly she felt something different. Like a call – or was it a cold draught against her clammy skin? She concentrated on her surroundings to trace the source of this call. It came from there, behind that grove leaning against a natural rock face. Trilla struggled to pull aside the bushes whose thorns scratched her arms. Behind them she uncovered a narrow crack in the rock face. After taking a last look behind her, she slipped into the opening – it was more interesting than reading dusty old books.

After crawling for almost half an hour on a narrow path that descended a gentle slope, Trilla ended up in a cave. The ambient darkness made her see no further than the tip of her nose. She pulled out her lightsaber. The blue blade ignited by buzzing, lightly illuminating the surroundings with its vibrant light. Trilla looked at the scenery that had appeared before her: in a huge cave – bigger than she had thought at first – stood the ruins of an entire village. She walked carefully to the nearest building and laid her hand on it. It was not a construction of the settlers, she was sure of that. The rock of which the building was made did not look like any of the rocks of Solenae. And the architecture was different too – purer and more pared-down than the baroque architecture of the Palace. As for its age, it was clear from the condition of the buildings that they were several thousand years old – and the Prime Governor had said this morning that the settlers had arrived on Solenae only five hundred years ago.

Amazed and emboldened by her discovery, Trilla began to walk more confidently, her footsteps resonating with a cavernous sound, passing by houses until she reached what looked like a square surrounded by statues of aliens she didn't know. The buildings were tall. The species that must have lived here – probably the one of the statues – must have been more than seven feet high. Absorbed by her thoughts, she did not see the hole in the ground. Her foot got stuck in it, and she stumbled forward, rolling down a steep slope as her lightsaber slipped out of her hands.

She did not know how much time had passed when she regained consciousness. She sat up on the ground and then tried to stand up, but she stifled a cry of pain and fell to the ground. She must have sprained her ankle. It was dark; she had to find a way to light up to see where she had fallen. She groped in the darkness looking for her lightsaber, but she could not find it. She concentrated to feel its presence – nothing. She did not know where it had gone.

Surrounded by darkness, anxiety gradually began to replace the self-confidence with which she had felt filled after her discovery. She could not walk, she could not light up – how was she going to get out of here? And how could Master Junda know where she was?

"Master Junda!" Trilla shouted. The echo of her cry resonated against the walls of the cave before gradually fading away. She knew deep down that she had gone too far underground to hope to be heard by anyone.

She muffled a sob mixed with anguish and pain. The darkness grew stronger and heavier around her. What if no one ever found her? Would she end up dying of hunger – or rather of thirst – there, alone in the dark? No! No way! Trilla was not the kind of person who would let things get her down so easily.

Like the flickering flame of a candle in the night, hope revived in Trilla's heart. She was a Jedi. The Force would help her get out of here. Trilla focused, clearing her mind. She began to draw a shape in her mind – brown skin, long black braided hair, Jedi robes, green lightsaber... Gradually, the image of Master Junda appeared in her mind, and she called her through the Force.

_"Master! Help me, Master. You're my only hope..."_

23 BBY – Solenae – Palace of the Prime Governor

Cere was pleased. The Prime Governor had accepted Chancellor Palpatine's offer. Solenae was going to join the Senate, and the Republic was going to be able to exploit the cortosis mines on the planet. However, discussions had taken longer than expected, and Cere felt tired. A shower would probably do her good.

When she arrived in her room, she turned on the lights without thinking – it had been evening for a long time. She frowned. Something was wrong, but she could not see what.

She took a soft white cotton towel laying on a table and walked to the bathroom – as luxurious as the rest of the suite – to finally take her much-deserved shower. She enjoyed every second of it.

As she stepped out of the bathroom in a blast of steam, she finally realized what was wrong: Trilla still had not come back even though it was pitch black outside. She knew her apprentice well, and even though she could be studious when she wanted to be, she knew that she would never have stayed in the library that long. Where the hell had she been?

Cere rushed out of her room and ran until she bumped into one of the servants of the Prime Governor. She explained the situation to him, and less than five minutes later the whole palace was in turmoil, everyone looking for the missing apprentice. After an hour of searching, they had to face the fact that the Padawan had vanished into thin air.

Cere was pacing back and forth in the throne room, her arms folded in front of her chest, surrounded by the palace guards and their captain. She was beginning to worry. Trilla could be stubborn. What if something had happened to her? Suddenly, she sensed something in the Force. Someone called to her. She closed her eyes and concentrated.

_"Master! Help me, Master. You're my only hope..."_

It was Trilla! Cere started walking fast, following the trail left by the Force. The captain of the guards, surprised, beckoned his men to follow him, and they fell into step behind her. A few minutes later, she arrived in front of a large red wooden locked door.

"What is behind that door?" she asked the captain.

"It's a direct access to the old catacombs," he replied politely. "But they haven't been used for more than two centuries..."

"Open that door immediately, please," Cere ordered.

The captain obeyed, and the door opened in a chorus of creaks, giving way to a flight of stairs that swooped down into the dark depths of the palace. Cere hurried down the steps, still followed by the captain and his guards. The further down the stairs she went, the darker and colder it got, the louder Trilla's call became. After a while, the steps gave way to a simple path dug into the stone. After almost half an hour of walking, they finally reached a dark cave.

Cere lit the green blade of her lightsaber and the guards ignited their torches. By Force! Where did they arrive? The ruins of a troglodyte village stretched before their eyes. Still following the call, Cere advanced through the ruins, surprised to recognize the statues and symbols that decorated the streets. She came to a square. On the ground was Trilla's lightsaber. She picked it up, wondering where its owner had gone, when she heard a voice calling weakly.

"Master?"

Cere approached the edge of the square. The ground was going down a steep slope – the voice seemed to come from there. She let herself slide down the slope, reassured to find her apprentice sitting on the floor with a visibly injured ankle.

"Oh Master!" exclaimed the teenager in a relieved voice. "You have come for me!"

"I would never have abandoned you, Trilla, you know that. Never!" said Cere, smiling.

23 BBY – Solenae – Palace of the Prime Governor – Guest suite

"So, you have succeeded, Master," Trilla noticed, lying on her bed, her wounded foot wrapped in a strong bandage.

"Yes," replied Master Junda. "The Prime Governor wasn't easy to convince, but it's done."

Trilla sighed with relief at the news. After everything that had happened, she did not want to spend another minute on Solenae.

"Anyway," continued Cere Junda. "I don't know whether or not I should lecture you for disobeying me."

"But I didn't disobey you, Master," Trilla replied, widening her eyes in a falsely innocent look. "You asked me to go to the library to learn more about the history of this planet. Well, I went to the library – even though I never reached it – and in the end I learned more about the history of this planet, didn't I?"

Master Junda sighed in turn and folded her arms. Trilla knew her master could not fight her flawless argument.

"What are we going to do now?" Trilla asked.

"Probably go back to Coruscant," Master Junda answered. "But before we do, I have to contact someone."

She took a small holoprojector out of her pocket and activated it. The bluish image that appeared was of an old, bearded Jedi that Trilla had never seen before.

"Master?" said Cere Junda in a joyful voice. "I believe I've made a discovery that may be of interest to you!"


	4. Merrin & Ilyana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Merrin fell to her knees beside Ilyana, raising a cloud of red dust. She took her friend in her arms. It almost looked like she was asleep, a peaceful smile on her lips, had it not been for that huge gaping, bloody hole on her forehead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merrin mentions Ilyana only once in the game, but that's enough to make me want to write something about their relationship. What kind of teenager could Merrin have been in the past?
> 
> I thank melrosethecat for the beta-reading.

20 BBY – Dathomir – Swamp

"Can you give me another Brula fruit, please?"

Merrin picked a ripe, juicy fruit from the basket and handed it to her friend. She took the fruit in her left hand and squeezed it over the terracotta bowl engraved with magic symbols while her right hand kept stirring the mixture with a wooden spoon. The nectar slowly dripped from the red flesh, like drops of blood, gradually mixing with the rest of the ingredients.

"And you say this potion is an antidote to snake venom?" Merrin asked her friend.

"Yes," she answered. "But you have to be careful to dose the Brula fruit correctly. If you put too much, it can cause unpleasant side effects."

"Like what?"

"Convulsions, blurred vision, hallucinations. That kind of thing," Ilyana answered, shrugging her shoulders.

Ilyana. Merrin looked at the girl who had always been her best friend, her Sister – even if not in the biological sense. She honestly couldn't imagine life without her.

Merrin sighed.

"What's going on?" Ilyana asked her, raising her eyebrows.

"It's just that... potions really aren't my forte," Merrin replied almost desperately, bringing her knees to her chest, withdrawing into herself like a turtle into its shell. "It's nice of you to help me progress, but I think I'm a lost cause."

"Don't say that," encouraged her friend with a warm smile. "You may not be very good at potions, but I've never seen anyone master the magical ichor so well. Really, you're very good at spells! I wouldn't be surprised if one day you became a Mother!"

"Stop flattering me," Merrin replied as her face flushed. "You know very well that's not true."

"I like it when you blush," said Ilyana. "You're very cute."

"Stop making fun of me!" Merrin exclaimed, even more embarrassed, throwing a Brula fruit to her face.

Ilyana caught the fruit with one hand, laughing heartily. She was radiant like the sun. Merrin, on the other hand, was a shy and withdrawn teenager – the exact opposite of Ilyana. She wondered what her friend might find interesting about her.

"I'm not making fun of you Merrin, you're really cute! And you'd be even cuter if you let your hair grow."

Merrin ran her hand through her short cut hair. Let her hair grow? It was out of the question. She knew she would never have hair as beautiful as Ilyana's – she looked with some envy at the thick braid of silver hair that cascaded down to her friend's lower back. Besides, short hair was so much more convenient. She saw no point in letting it grow except to please her.

Merrin turned back to the swamp where they used to sneak out to make their potions and share all their teenage desires and dreams. The sun was setting on the horizon, illuminating the bog with its red light – even redder than usual. The shadows cast by the plants and cliffs gradually grew wider on the ground like deformed monsters crawling through the mud trying to reach the two young Nightsisters. The smell of sulfur mingled with the moldy scent of mushrooms and the smell of silt – Merrin loved this typical fragrance of Dathomir. Night was falling.

"We'd better go home," said Merrin, turning her head towards her friend. "The others must be waiting fo—"

She stopped, surprised to find herself nose-to-nose with Ilyana. Her friend looked at her with mischievous eyes, before putting her lips on hers. Merrin opened her mouth slightly, responding to Ilyana's passionate kiss.

Ilyana. She was more than a friend. More than a Sister.

20 BBY – Dathomir – Nightsisters Village

The sun was completely down by the time they reached the troglodyte village, and the red-tinted starry sky stretched over their heads. However, none of the Nightsisters who were there made the slightest remark about their lateness. They went to the house they occupied with the other Sisters of their age. The meal had begun. They took place with the others, passing around the various dishes and picking up whatever interested them. Once the meal was over, they stayed for a long time chatting around the fire, whose yellow flames danced merrily, listening to Unsijj's ghost stories and Trinn's jokes.

Merrin looked furtively at Ilyana, who was laughing out loud. She was happy with her. They had vowed that they would spend the rest of their lives together, and this idea filled Merrin with joy, slightly warming her chest and cheeks.

When it was time for bed, Ilyana made a discreet wave to Merrin, inviting her to join her outside. Merrin went outside and walked around the house. Ilyana was waiting for her, hidden in the shadows.

"What's going on?" Merrin asked, noticing her friend's worried look.

"I... I just have a bad feeling," Ilyana answered. "But it's surely nothing – surely."

"Don't worry," Merrin said, taking her friend's hands to reassure her. "I'm here if you need me."

"Thank you Merrin," Ilyana answered. "And... I love you."

"I love you too!" replied Merrin with a large smile.

When she went to bed that night, in the bed next to Ilyana's, Merrin knew that nothing in the world could separate them.

20 BBY – Dathomir – Nightsisters Village

It was a scream of terror that awakened Ilyana. A bloodcurdling scream that made her hair stand on end. Whatever was happening to the Sister who had let it out, it foreshadowed a great misfortune.

Ilyana suddenly straightened up on her bed at the same time as her Sisters.

"What's going on?" asked Unsijj in a worried voice.

"I don't know," Ilyana answered, getting up to go outside to see what was going on.

Suddenly, Sister Elzi – an older Sister – rushed into the room.

"Hurry up, everyone out," she urged in a voice that reflected panic. "We're under attack! Follow me at once."

The room suddenly looked like an anthill in which someone had just kicked. The young Nightsisters all got up at the same time in a sudden frenzy, looking for their clothes and shoes, getting dressed in a hurry before following Sister Elzi outside. When they went out, they noticed that all the adult Sisters were armed, ready to fight against those who were attacking them, whoever they might be.

Ilyana followed the group to the back of the village with a lump in her throat, holding Merrin's hand in hers. When she heard the first blaster shots, she took a quick look behind her. Her Sisters had engaged in battle against what looked like droids. Suddenly, a metal warrior appeared amidst the smoke from the blaster shots, brandishing three blades of light – two blue and one green – in his hands, slicing her Sisters' heads off like a knife slices soft butter. Next to her, Merrin uttered a cry of horror. The rest of the group also turned around, and then, overcome by panic, everyone started to run. Ilyana followed them, Merrin's hand still clutched in hers, pulling her along with her. She could hear behind her the battle raging, the cries of her Sisters falling in the fight. She could smell the smoke and the blood tingle her nostrils. She ran as fast as she could to save both their lives.

However, the warrior was too fast, he was getting too close to them.

"Hide, quick!" Sister Elzi shouted.

The young Nightsisters suddenly scattered like a flock of frightened birds, each one seeking shelter. Ilyana still refused to let go of Merrin's hand. She had to find a way to protect her. Suddenly, she spotted a small recess in a wall. She pushed Merrin into the small alcove – there wasn't enough space for two.

"What are you doing?" Merrin asked her friend in a panic.

"I'm saving your life," Ilyana answered.

"And you?" Merrin asked.

"Don't worry, I'll find another hideout."

Ilyana pushed a crate in front of the opening to conceal it. The crate was heavy and completely masked the hiding place – no one would think to look behind it. Then she ran away, leaving Merrin behind and praying for both of them to survive.

20 BBY – Dathomir – Nightsisters Village

Merrin had spent the battle cowering in her hideout, her head buried in her arms, trying to remain deaf to the massacre that was taking place around her. She didn't know how much time had passed when she realized that the noise had stopped. Her heart was still beating fast, and she was shaking with fear. What should she do? Come out or stay hidden? She felt that day had dawned. The attackers must have left. After several attempts, she managed to push the heavy crate in front of her and came out of hiding.

She stood up dusting her knees, and then she started to walk through the still smoking rubble of what had once been her village. She had barely taken a few steps when she saw the first body on the ground. It was Sister Elzi. Merrin uttered a cry of surprise and horror. She was dead. Merrin continued on her way to the center of the village. Trinn, Unsijj, Sirje... they were all there on the ground – all dead. Merrin started to run.

"Ilyana!" she cried out in a voice full of tears. "Ilyana, where are you? Ilyana, answer me! I beg you! Ilyana!"

Suddenly, she saw her.

There she was, lying on the ground, motionless. Merrin fell to her knees beside Ilyana, raising a cloud of red dust. She took her friend in her arms. It almost looked like she was asleep, a peaceful smile on her lips, had it not been for that huge gaping, bloody hole on her forehead – probably a blaster shot. Merrin buried her face against Ilyana's chest and started crying her eyes out.

It was all over. Never again would Merrin see her bright smile. Never again would Merrin hear her light laugh echoing through the swamps. Never again would Merrin feel her soft lips on hers. Ilyana was dead, and Merrin felt like she was dead with her.

Merrin raised her head and uttered a heart-rending cry. A bestial cry. She would avenge all their deaths. Yes, she vowed it, one day, she would avenge them.

14 BBY – Dathomir – Strangled Cliffs

From the top of the cliff where she was standing, Merrin watched the blue and white ship land. She pushed away a long strand of hair that the wind was waving in front of her eyes, partially obstructing her sight. She thought back briefly to Ilyana – she had finally given in to her friend's request, even though she was no longer there to see how much her hair had grown in the last six years.

A few minutes later, an outsider came out of the ship – Merrin couldn't see what species it was from where she was. Two other outsiders came out and joined the first one, and the three of them stood still for a few moments, probably talking. Then the two outsiders who came out last ran out onto the landing pad towards the building near which Merrin was standing.

They were humans – Merrin could clearly distinguish the red hair from the one on her left, which glowed like a scarlet flame in the red light of Dathomir's sun. Suddenly, the redhead pulled something out from under his coat and lit it. A blade of blue light appeared, slicing through the Bane Back Spiders in his path. Jedi! Merrin felt anger suddenly overwhelm her heart and mind. How dare they come here?! After what theirs people had done to her?! No, she would not let them. They had no right to be here!

Merrin was delighted. At last! At last, she would be able to avenge the death of her Sisters.


	5. Cal & Prauf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Prauf was surprised by the sight that awaited him on the threshold of the door of his apartment. He didn't expect to see Cal standing outside his home in the middle of the night with a bloody nose and his left arm held in a makeshift splint."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cal + whump = my favorite fanfics!
> 
> I thank melrosethecat for the beta-reading.

17 BBY – Bracca – Shipbreaking Yard 323A

Cal knew that he should not have accepted this task. However, someone had to go and retrieve that hull-cutting droid that had gotten lost somewhere up there in the Venator wreckage on which his team had been working for three weeks now. And since he was the last rigger to join the team – he had only been here for six months after all – it was up to him to do it.

He nimbly climbed along a wall, hoping to find that damn droid quickly. If it was a scrapper who went missing, the Guild wouldn't have even bothered to send someone to look for him. However, those cutter droids were expensive – more expensive than the life of a mere rigger like him. And these days, the Guild was seeking by all means possible to save every credit – just look at the pittance he was getting every month for risking his life on those old wrecked ships. However, he needed this work. He thought back to Sarali'nda, who had lost three fingers last week and her job in the process. No, really, Cal needed this job too much. He knew it wasn't the best job he could get on Bracca, but it wasn't the worst either, far from it – he knew something about that. A shiver ran down his spine. There were memories he would rather forget.

Ah! Here it is! He had just spotted the droid – this idiot had jammed his blade in a piece of hull too thick for him. Cal cautiously walked on the thin ledge before jumping onto a tiny platform – he had to be careful not to fall – right behind the droid.

"Easy, it's going to be okay," Cal whispered to try to calm the droid who, obviously panicked, was desperately trying to get off the durasteel. He gently grabbed the droid in his hands and pulled with all his might to help it free itself.

Suddenly, the blade slipped out of the hull, and the droid made an abrupt backward movement. Cal had just enough time to take a step back, narrowly avoiding the droid, but he felt the droid's blade scratch his face. Unbalanced, he tilted backwards and fell into the void – the fall was several feet high. As a reflex, he stretched his arms out in front of him to try to absorb the shock. He crashed brutally to the ground in a crack of bone and cartilage, and he cried out as the pain spread from his left arm to his shoulder. Overwhelmed by the pain, he curled up on the floor clutching his shoulder and started sobbing – it hurt so much!

He lay on the floor for a while, crying, before he finally came to his senses. He managed with difficulty to sit on the floor and looked at his shoulder. It was at a strange shape – it was probably dislocated. He also felt the blood dripping copiously on his chin and his service poncho. He ran his hand over his face and felt a large gash across his nose – that damn droid's blade hadn't missed him.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts and reflect. He knew the Guild wouldn't send anyone to get him. He wasn't worth it. And Prauf wasn't on the junkyard today – it was his day off. He was also the only one who might have noticed Cal's absence. Cal had to cope on his own. With his dislocated shoulder, he wasn't even bothering to try to climb back up. His only option was to make his way through the wreckage until he found a way out. At this point, he thanked the hours spent exploring every nook and cranny of the Venator on which he served during the Clone Wars.

He tried to get up. However, as soon as he stood up, pain pierced his shoulder, blurring his vision and causing him to lose his balance – he felt sick. He caught himself with his good hand by leaning against the hull of the ship and puked his breakfast on the floor; then he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and thought again. He had to find a way to ease the pain if he wanted to be able to move around. He had an idea: he untied his work harness and used it to make a makeshift splint - with his arm held, he would have less pain. He tried to stand up again. The pain was still there, but not as bad. He was going to be able to walk.

He found a hole in the wall and slipped through. Fortunately, he was not tall for his age. He heard noises around him and saw dozens of eyes glowing in the darkness. Scrap rats – they must have been lured here by the smell of blood still dripping from the wound on his face. He had to get out of here quickly before he ended up being eaten by the rats – or something worse.

17 BBY – Bracca – District 32 – Prauf's Apartment

Prauf was surprised by the sight that awaited him on the threshold of the door of his apartment. He didn't expect to see Cal standing outside his home in the middle of the night with a bloody nose and his left arm held in a makeshift splint – from the shape of his shoulder, it was probably dislocated.

Worried, Prauf rushed the young boy into his apartment and pulled a chair to sit him on it.

"Kriff Cal, what happened?" asked Prauf, filled with concern for the young boy he had taken under his wing in recent months.

"A bad fall," Cal replied in a tired voice. He seemed exhausted.

"Wait here, I'm going to see if I have a medkit left," Prauf said as he stood up.

He went to the bathroom and started rummaging around. Damn it! He was sure he left one somewhere around here! He had to admit that since Beth's leaving, his apartment was much less well tidy – he didn't have time for that. Aha! There! Under the mountain of dirty t-shirts – he could see a corner of the red and white metal box. He returned to the living room, victoriously lifting the medkit above his head.

"Found it!"

Cal was still sitting on his chair. He hadn't moved an inch – oh, wait, he had taken his hood off. Prauf was always embarrassed to see how obedient Cal could be. A remnant of his past – Prauf shivered – he didn't like to remember his meeting with the kid.

Suddenly, the wound on Cal's nose reopened, and blood began to run down on his chin again. He watched the big red drops fall on the Alderaanian carpet under his feet, and he was suddenly panicked, as if he dreaded Prauf's reaction at the sight of the carpet now soiled with crimson stains.

"Prauf, I... I'm sorry..." stuttered Cal as he tried to stop the flow of blood with his able-bodied hand while his eyes filled with tears.

"Oh, don't worry about it," Prauf reassured him with a shrug. "It was my ex-wife's. She left it here when she left us, Bracca and me. Anyway, knowing her, I'm sure it's a fake."

Beth could be a real skinflint. At least, on this point, Prauf did not miss her. However, this remark failed to calm Cal, and the boy suddenly burst into tears.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Prauf. You're the one who got me this job. And once again, I failed and ruined everything."

Prauf was sorry to see him in this state – his face covered with blood, tears, and snot. Why did this kid always put the blame on himself, even when he wasn't responsible? It was always like he had something for which he needed to make amends.

"Hey, easy kid, okay? You're alive, that's all that matters," Prauf replied kindly, gently wiping the blood from Cal's face with a damp cloth. "We're on Bracca here. Everyone who works here, at the scrapyard... we've all failed at one time or another – otherwise we wouldn't be here. You're not the only one. So just calm down. We're going to take care of all this, and then it'll get better."

Prauf finished wiping the blood and tears from Cal's cheeks, and then he passed a cloth soaked in disinfectant over the injury, trying to be as gentle as possible so as not to open the wound any further. The boy winced when the antiseptic stung his nose. Then Prauf took a bacta patch out of the medikit and stuck it on Cal's nose, stopping the bleeding. The boy ran his fingers along the bandage, as if he was trying to gauge the size of the wound. It's true that he hadn't yet seen himself in a mirror. And he had to admit that he hadn't missed himself – the cut was really wide.

"It'll heal the wound, but it won't be enough to make the gash disappear. You're gonna have quite a scar. Well, one more or one less, I think it won't make much of a difference to you," Prauf warned him. He looked at the boy's face, already covered with scars. He thought there were too many for a boy his age – especially the big one on his jaw and neck, about which Cal had always refused to talk to him.

Cal nodded in agreement with his remark.

"Okay, now we're gonna take care of your arm. I'm warning you right now, kid, it's not gonna be a pleasure cruise. C'mon, get down on the floor."

Cal took off his poncho covered in blood and dirt and obeyed immediately. Prauf began to pull slowly but firmly on Cal's arm. He saw the kid bite his lips, and he heard him stifle a cry of pain, while tears came to his eyes. Suddenly, the bone regained its place, and Prauf released Cal's arm.

"Take that," Prauf said, handing him an ice pack. Cal grabbed it and pressed it on his shoulder.

Prauf stood up and walked to the kitchen. He came back with a glass and a bottle of good Corellian whiskey – one of the only things he still had left from his past as an engineer, before the Empire.

"Gotta admit, you're pretty tough for a kid," Prauf said. He poured a small dose of whiskey in the glass before handing it to Cal. "I know you're not old enough yet, but take it. It'll do you good."

Cal took the glass and looked at the amber liquid with hesitant air before swallowing it in one go. He coughed, and his eyes got wet with tears. Prauf stifled a chuckle at the kid's surprise – yes, it was presumably the first time he'd ever drunk alcohol.

"If you want, you can sleep here," Prauf kindly offered. He didn't want to imagine Cal in this state alone on the streets of Bracca – even though District 32 was rather quiet compared to the others.

"I'll get you a blanket, and the couch isn't too uncomfortable. You can take a shower in the meantime. I'm going to give you a change of clothes – yours are covered in blood. And if you're hungry, feel free to help yourself."

"Thanks, Prauf. You're saving my life once again," Cal said, blushing.

"Er… It's nothing. We scrappers have to stick together," Prauf replied with a wink.

He went to his room to rummage about in Beth's wardrobe in search of old clothes that might fit the boy – his would be far too big for such a small human. He could hear the water running in the bathroom – the boy had followed his advice. It would do him good after the day he'd just had. As he always said, there's nothing better than a good shower to wash away the worries. Eventually he unearthed a pair of Beth's pants – one of those pants that are supposed to slim the silhouette – and one of his old t-shirts that had shrunk in the wash. He added a frayed blanket.

He came out of his room just as Cal was coming out of the bathroom with a towel tied around his waist. The shower seemed to have had a beneficial effect. He looked better, although bruises were starting to appear all over his chest and arms.

"Sorry," said Prauf, a little embarrassed as he handed him the clothes and blanket. "That's all I could find." He would have liked to give the boy something better than some old clothes, a worn blanket and a shabby, squeaky couch.

"It'll be enough, thank you," replied Cal, smiling – as usual – so as not to worry him.

Prauf wished him a good night and went to his room. Before entering, he turned around and discreetly watched Cal put on the clothes, lay down on the old couch, and pull the blanket over him. He heard him sigh.

He too sighed – inwardly, so as not to be heard by the boy who hadn't noticed his presence in the doorway of the room. He felt responsible for this kid. He was like the son he never had. Prauf knew that he would do everything in his power to protect Cal from whoever was after him. Even though Cal had always assured him that he wasn't hiding from anyone, Prauf knew it was a lie – he could see the faint glimmer of fear shining constantly in the depths of his eyes.

Prauf stood there, watching Cal with a look full of kindness and a fond smile on his lips, until he was certain that the boy had fallen into a deep sleep.

Yes, he would do everything he could to protect him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had started to write a long fanfic about Cal's life on Bracca. However, it happened that other fanfics had been posted on the same theme in the meantime, and my first two chapters were too similar to those of another fic (which I like very much, by the way). So, I dropped this project. Since I liked this rough draft, I decided to post it here. In hindsight, I don't think it's very good. Please, let me know if you like it, in that case I might consider taking this old fanfic project on Baby Cal up again to improve it (because it needs to be improved).


	6. Greez & The Mantis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Gambling problems again? I knew Hondo's new ship looked familiar!"  
> "Anyway, I moved on, and the Mantis—  
> "You called it the Mantis? Honestly Greez, you never had any taste when it comes to names!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're wondering how Greez got the Mantis? And how he got involved in all this Jedi business? Yeah, so am I.
> 
> I thank melrosethecat for the beta-reading.

18 BBY – Nar Shaddaa – 'Lucky Starships' Store

She was gorgeous, sublime, splendid, sumptuous – whatever the language used, there were not enough words to describe such a marvel. Her curves were so beautiful – and on top of that, she was Latero, just like him. Greez sighed. That's it – he was in love.

The pilot emerged from the deep admiring reverie in which he had sunk as soon as his eyes had fallen on the splendid hull of this no less splendid technological marvel that had just won his heart.

She was a luxury yacht – a model S-161 'Stinger' XL, one of the jewels of the space industry straight out of the Latero Spaceworks' factories. The colorful neon lights of Nar Shaddaa reflected on the blue and white paint of the ship, which proudly pointed her wing to the sky, her ramp open as an invitation to come in.

"Are you sure you want to visit this wreck?" asked the salesman – a Devaronian with coral-colored skin whose numerous white teeth sparkled like diamonds in the sun. "It's a fast and elegant model, but it's out of fashion. Republican ships are no longer very popular these days. People prefer the more resistant and reliable Imperial models. I'm sure I can find you better – much better – than that."

"No thanks," Greez replied politely without taking his eyes off the ship. "That's the one I want to see."

"Then please come with me."

Greez followed the Devaronian into the ship. The inside was even better than Greez had expected. There was everything of which the pilot had always dreamed. The cockpit was spacious and bright – the floor was even partly built with glass, offering a large area of view. It provided comfortable seats for the pilot and co-pilot – although Greez preferred to work solo – and a comm station. The common room was rather vast, with a holotable, a potoli-weave sofa – what a luxury! – and a galley well enough equipped to allow Greez to give free rein to his culinary talent. There was even a terrarium – Greez had to admit that he had always dreamed of starting gardening, even though he had never dared to tell anyone. Finally, at the back of the ship was a corridor that ended in the engine room where there was a workbench and a bunk. Several doors led to a refresher and two cabins that were indisputably spacious compared to what he had experienced on other ships.

So, admittedly, she deserved a little rejuvenation – the paint was chipping in many places – and there were some repairs to be made. But this ship was truly a beautiful masterpiece of a machine.

It was decided: Greez wanted this beauty, no matter what the price.

"How much do you want?" Greez asked.

"Well, considering the original price – high given the quality and the model – and the state of wear, I'll give it to you for 60,000 credits," replied the Devaronian.

Greez felt all his hairs stand on end. It was a real scam! But Greez was the king of negotiation.

"I'm offering you 40,000 credits for it," Greez replied. "Repairs will cost at least 10,000 credits. And as you said earlier, this kind of ship is no longer popular. I'm doing you a favor by getting rid of it."

The Devaronian grumbled, visibly annoyed at being caught out at his own game.

"Okay, 50,000 credits and I'll finish all the repairs before delivery."

"You've got a deal!" Greez exclaimed as he reached out his hand to the salesman. "And you'll refuel before I leave, right?"

The Devaronian grouched again, but he nevertheless grabbed Greez's hand to seal the deal.

"I'll let you come with me to my office to arrange all the details," the salesman said, inviting Greez to follow him with a wave of his hand.

Greez turned around to take one last look at the ship – his new baby. Yes, he didn't regret his decision, even though it cost him more than he expected. Now all he had to do was think about one question: where was he going to get 50,000 Imperial credits?"

18 BBY – Ordo Eris – Sorc Tormo's Office

"Ah, Greezy, my friend! To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" exclaimed Sorc Tormo, his arms opened as a sign of welcome, his buttocks sunk in a huge red velvet armchair in the middle of his office whose walls were entirely covered with bling-bling gilding and advertising posters for the fights he organized in his private arena on Ordo Eris. Greez didn't like the extravagant Umbaran, but he had no choice. Sorc Tormo was the only one who could provide Greez with the credits he needed.

Greez glanced mistrustfully at the two Trandoshan bodyguards standing right behind him. The two reptiles were looking at him with amused eyes and whistling, as if they were going to pounce on him at any moment, which made him shudder.

"Hey Sorc," replied Greez, trying to adopt a confident and cheerful tone. "How are you?"

"As usual, my dear friend, as usual," answered the Umbaran looking at the pilot with a big smile. "You came to watch a fight? Make some bets?"

"Not this time, Sorc," said Greez, shaking his head slightly. "I'd rather have a favor to ask of you."

"A favor? Tell me everything," answered Sorc Tormo, his smile still on his face.

"Well, let's say..." Greez began scratching the back of his head. He didn't know where to start. "I... I would need some money. 50,000 credits to be exact."

Sorc Tormo clicked his tongue and gave Greez a sorry look. The smile with which he had so far rewarded the Latero had completely vanished from his face.

"Greezy, my friend," Sorc Tormo answered, shaking his head. "You know you already owe me a bunch of credits – all those lost bets. And you're asking me for 50,000 more? If I give it to you, I know I'll never get my money back…"

"I'm onto something big, Sorc," said Greez. "I promise you. I... I'm starting a new business – private transportation. I'm sure in a few months I'll recover the outlay, and you'll have your money."

Sorc Tormo gave an expressionless glance at Greez, as if he was analyzing the gains and risks he was incurring in this business. Then finally, he opened his mouth.

"Okay Greez, you'll get your money. But you'd better pay me back, with interest of course," Sorc Tormo replied in a soft voice – too soft, almost threatening. "I know I don't need to remind you what happens to those who don't pay me back."

Greez swallowed hard as he heard the thinly veiled threat of the Umbaran. Yes, he knew that if he didn't pay him back, he would end up in the arena, thrown to Sorc Tormo's monsters – or worse. But the image of the _Mantis_ – that was the name he had decided to give to his future ship – came to his mind. He couldn't give up his dream so close to the goal.

"Okay Sorc," replied Greez, praying hard that his business would work.

But deep down he knew he had just made a deal with the devil.

16 BBY – Takodana –Maz Kanata's Castle

Greez sipped his Bloody Rancor, watching the place with a curious look, admiring the waltz of the waiters among the tables and chairs. The cantina in which he was sitting was known to be the ideal place to do business without being burdened with all the cumbersome, tedious, and expensive protocolary constraints that usually prevailed elsewhere. Scoundrels – pirates, bounty hunters, mercenaries, smugglers and explorers – of every possible species gathered here to share a drink or a game, and maybe more. It was a cosmopolitan place, an explosive mix of colors, smells, languages and cultures from the four corners of the galaxy. Greez loved this kind of place, where you could meet new people – more or less friendly – discover new music bands or hear – in all discretion of course – rumors that could make you a lot of credit.

As for him, Greez was primarily looking for a potential contract. The last few months had been difficult – he had to admit that the competition was tough – and he hadn't had many clients into which to get his teeth. He was hoping to find here some bigwigs who were willing to pay a lot of money for quality private transportation. To be honest, Greez was more than willing to accept any client, even for a dubious or illegal business, as long as they paid in cash – his loan from Sorc Tormo was very far from being repaid.

Suddenly, a clear voice rose in the midst of the crowd.

"Greez, old rascal, I wondered to whom could belong the old Latero heap of junk parked in my hangar!"

"Maz, you old fool!" Greez exclaimed, turning to the little alien with orange skin and a round, wrinkled face who was coming towards him.

Maz Kanata didn't wait for Greez's invitation to sit at his table – she was home after all.

"What have you been up to?" Maz asked, waving to a Nautolan waitress to bring her a drink.

"Oh, ya know, nothing special," Greez replied, taking a sip from his Bloody Rancor. "I go here and there, as usual."

"Is that a new ship you've got there?" Maz asked, raising her eyebrows. "What happened to the old one?"

"I, um... I had a little trouble with some Weequays pirates," Greez replied evasively.

"Gambling problems again? I knew Hondo's new ship looked familiar!"

"Anyway, I moved on, and the _Mantis_ —

"You called it the _Mantis_? Honestly Greez, you never had any taste when it comes to names!" exclaimed Maz, stifling a mocking laugh.

Greez refrained himself from making a scathing retort – after all, this castle belonged to Maz, and he didn't want to be escorted to the door with a kick in the ass.

The Nautolan waitress comes back at that moment with Maz's drink. The little alien thanked her and drank a sip of the purple liquid from her glass.

"It reminds me a little bit of that ship we used for that mission," she continued. "Remember... on Ord Mantell..."

"The time I almost lost two arms because of you and your supposedly 'reliable and competent' contact? Of course, I remember!" sneered Greez.

"I remind you that if you hadn't insulted his entire clan by holding out your right hand instead of your left, as I told you to do, we wouldn't have been in this situation!" replied Maz, shrugging her shoulders.

They both laughed heartily, before pausing for a few moments to enjoy their drinks. Then Maz resumed:

"Okay, so, spit it out now. What are you doin' here?"

"I... um... I was wondering if, by any chance, you might know someone looking for a ship and a pilot."

Maz looked at him with an extremely serious look through her thick magnifying glasses that gave her the strange appearance of a Convor.

"How much trouble are you in?" she asked him gravely.

"Up to my neck," Greez admitted as he lowered his eyes. "I owe a lot of money to Sorc Tormo."

"Ah yes, at that level, it's no longer trouble. You're totally in deep shit."

"You can't even imagine," replied Greez sheepishly.

"Listen, Greez. We've been friends for a long time, you and I," Maz said. "And I don't like to leave my friends in trouble – especially when I owe them one. I've got someone for you, but... she's looking for someone who's really very discreet."

"Maz, you know me," Greez replied, raising his four hands. "You know what my mantra is. The less I know, the better."

Maz looked at him again for a moment without saying anything, and then she turned around and nodded to someone. A person sitting at a secluded table in the shadow stood up and came to sit with them.

"Greez, allow me to present you a... 'friend'," Maz said as she made the introductions. "I'll leave you two to discuss your business in peace. I have to get back to my bar."

"Thank you Maz," Greez said as the little alien stood up to leave.

Once they were alone, Greez analyzed his client with his eyes. There wasn't much to say about her. She was a human dressed in a brown cloak with a hood that cast a shadow on her face, preventing Greez from seeing it well – it was as if she was doing everything she could to go unnoticed. Since she didn't say anything, Greez felt compelled to strike up the conversation.

"So, I hear you're looking for a pilot?" asked the Latero, somewhat uncomfortable. "You won't find a better one around here. One hundred percent discretion guaranteed! And for a highly-competitive price!"

"Indeed, I need a ship – and someone to fly it – to help me find something... something rare in this day and age," replied the woman, opening her mouth for the first time. "And money is not a problem."

"Nothing dangerous I hope..." said the pilot, laughing to mask his anxiety.

"It depends on what you mean by 'dangerous'," replied the human. "Let's say I'd rather the Empire not know about my activities."

An anti-Imperial mission? It was risky. Greez had a bad feeling about this. She was hiding something from him, and he didn't like that. But he needed that job – and those credits – too much.

"So, I'm your man!" exclaimed the pilot, reaching out a hand to the woman. "Greez Dritus, at your service! What exactly are you looking for?"

"Cere Junda," replied the human as she shook hands with Greez. "Have you ever heard of the Jedi? I need you to help me find one."

Yes, it was now perfectly clear: Greez had a _really_ bad feeling about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this fanfic! Feel free to leave a comment, I'll be happy to answer you!


End file.
